


Fading Daylight

by bamfleur



Category: Unsere Mütter unsere Väter | Generation War
Genre: Drabble, I also thought about writing Friedhelm's death but somehow it seemed much harder, One Shot, WW2, brb crying, wow I just finished watching it and I'm NOT okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:00:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24477589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamfleur/pseuds/bamfleur
Summary: Greta's POV the few seconds before she's executed.
Kudos: 16





	Fading Daylight

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for any grammar mistakes etc.  
> enjoy the pain

"Dachtest du, wir vergessen dich?"

The words rang hollow in her ears.

Yes. Yes, she had thought - hoped - that they would maybe forget her. After all, the war was nearly over, and she had signed the Obersturmbannführer's letter.

 _I'll make a star out of you, Greta._ Martin seemed to whisper mockingly in her ear. _Nobody will ever forget you._

For a moment, she couldn't move. So this was it. Her death. The great Greta del Torres, ending nameless and forgotten. And for what? The glorious German Reich and the Führer, a golden illusion built on the blood of innocents. Now the curtain had fallen, the stage lights gone out and all there was left was reality. Bleak, stark reality. She now understood the soldiers' tired, bitter faces when she had seen them at the front, the hard lines that were edged deeply into their too-young skin. She thought of Friedhelm, of Wilhem, of Charly. How could they manage it? She wanted to cry. To curl up in a ball and sob until there were nothing left in her broken little body.

But she forced her muscles to move and slowly stood up, trying to summon what little was left of her former self. The beautiful, confident, flirtatious woman that had a voice of angels and a hip sway to die for, turning heads wherever she went.

She couldn't do it.

There was just a defeaning silence as she walked out her cell and down the hallway, the footsteps of the escorting soldiers echoing unnaturally loud. The way to the execution ground felt long, and she was tired. She had thought she wanted to savour every second she had left, yet somehow she just was just exhausted. So, so exhausted. She wanted it to be over. Would it really be so horrible, to die?

 _If I'm dead that's not so horrible,_ she thought, _it's how I'm dying that's horrible.  
_

Then she was outside, daylight blinding her eyes. It was a relief, to breath in fresh air and feel cool wind on her skin after weeks - months? - of darkness. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine walking throught the streets of Berlin with her friends, the whole world at their feet. Of course, that was only when closing her eyes. She wanted to keep them open. 

Give them no satisfaction.

Let them know what they were doing. 

And they would soon close forever anyway, so if there was one last thing she could do to show defiance, she would do it.

The soldiers told her where to go and she could hear them lining up, their rifles clicking. _How ridiculous, to need four men to commit one murder._ When she turned and faced them, she briefly thought of Victor. The only thing she had done right the past four years. By now he had probably found his luck in New York, and would never know of her fate.

"Legt an!"

She looked at the fading daylight, and wished she could be like Arthur, the little bird on her cell's window sill.

Fly away and be free. 


End file.
